


The Devil’s Got Nothing on Me

by doctor__idiot



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 10x12 "About a Boy", Barebacking, Bottom Dean, Episode Related, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Sibling Incest, Top Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-15 05:04:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4593885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctor__idiot/pseuds/doctor__idiot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing Scene of 10.12 "About a Boy". This is nothing but porn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Devil’s Got Nothing on Me

**Author's Note:**

> The only thing I seem to write these days is porn. What is wrong with me?
> 
> Disclaimer: Nothing's mine. Just the idea.
> 
> Title taken from Keaton Henson's "Beekeeper".

Dean’s back hit the wall hard but Sam’s hands were under his shirt, spanning his ribs, and Sam’s mouth was right next to his ear, pouring filth, and he couldn’t care less about the twinge in his spine.

“Jesus, Dean, do you have any idea how much I wanted to—“ Sam dragged his lips down Dean’s neck, licking at the exposed skin. He was almost frantic, the way his hands dragged over Dean’s skin, fumbled with his clothes, and it was leaving Dean breathless. 

“ _Sammy_.”

Sam wrenched himself away, pulling Dean’s hoodie off his shoulders and his shirt over his head, slamming him back against the wall. Dean wasn’t opposed to rough sex and Sam pressing up against him, manhandling him like this, made his head swim.

“I am going to hell for thinking this but— But I wanted you so bad. You strutted through that door, looking barely old enough to drive and all I wanted to do was throw you on the bed and _fuck_ you.”

Dean moaned, low in his throat, clenching his fingers in Sam’s hair and slamming their mouths together. It could hardly be called a kiss, messy meeting of tongues and teeth and just short of painful.

“Wouldn’t have minded if you had,” Dean panted, “We’re both going to hell anyway.”

Sam chuckled and nudged Dean’s chin up with his nose. He bit a trail down to Dean’s collar bone and it was all Dean could do not to squirm. He wound one arms around Sam’s shoulder, bowing toward him. Sam was still wearing his jeans and Dean quickly had to remedy that.

“D’you think you could’ve taken me?” Sam nipped the words into the skin below Dean’s ear, “‘Cause I know how pretty you look on my cock now. How well you can take it. You think you would’ve been able to?

“J-Jesus _Christ_ , Sam.”

Dean hated and loved that Sam could do this to him. Reduce him to stutters and broken noise, uncontrolled in the face of desire and arousal.  
He didn’t even protest when Sam picked him up, strong fingers digging into his thighs, until the world tilted and there was a mattress giving against his back. He pulled Sam on top of him, hooking his legs around his brother’s middle. 

If he didn’t know any better, he would have said Sam _growled_ as he pressed down, closing his mouth over Dean’s. There was a little flash of pain when he bit Dean’s lower lip and sucked on it but all it did was make Dean moan shamelessly.  
And shameless he was. Sam’s words had reduced him to someone who wasn’t too proud to beg and if Sam didn’t move things along soon, that’s what Dean would be doing.

“Sam, I need— You need to fuck me now, _right now_ , because I—“ He swallowed the rest of his babbling. It wasn’t coherent and not even he was sure where he was going with it.

Apparently, Sam did, though, just like he seemed to know everything else oh so damn well. He sucked his thumb into his mouth and slid his hand between Dean’s legs, pressing it against tight muscle before pushing in.

Although it was slick with spit it burned and it was exactly what Dean had been wanting all day. He fisted his hands in the bedspread.  
He would have buried them in Sam’s hair but Sam was too far away and Dean was in no position to do anything about it, and then Sam replaced his thumb with his index and his middle finger and Dean made a sound that was something akin to a sob.

It was so incredibly good, Sam’s hands on him, in him, and he was arching into every little touch. Starved for it.  
As if Sam sensed it he stroked his palm down Dean’s side and trailed his nails up Dean’s thigh to raise goosebumps. His mouth found Dean’s innominate bone, the dip of his groin, and even the underside of his cock, making Dean’s hips jerk on the bed.

He opened his mouth to say something, probably to blurt out more pleas, but Sam quickly quieted him with a kiss. He kept one hand on Dean’s torso while he reached back for lube.

It wasn’t until Sam pried his fingers loose and took his hand in his that Dean noticed the stiffness in his own fingers from clenching them so tightly. Sam’s hand twined with his.

Dean wanted to close his eyes, he already felt too vulnerable, too open, but he found himself unable to, meeting Sam’s gaze dead-on when his cock pressed in.  
His eyes fluttered shut eventually with Sam bottoming out. Mouth hanging slack and open, Dean tilted his head back to arch his spine, taking Sam deeper, drawing him in closer with his heels digging into Sam’s tailbone.

The position wasn’t the most comfortable, especially with Sam bending him nearly in half, kissing him and bringing their foreheads together, but Dean didn’t care because Sam’s thrusts were sharp and deep and they had Dean coming apart at the seams.

He had _missed_ this, missed _Sam_ so much it had been an ever-present physical ache. For the first time in months he felt nothing but his own body and Sam’s, was in his own mind for the first time in a long time. The red mark on his arm was tingling but it seemed to work with him rather than against him now.

Sam made a little noise in the back of his throat, almost a whine. His mouth was on Dean’s shoulder and he pressed the words into skin, “ _God_ , you’re beautiful.”

Dean saved his objections, wasn’t sure he could rely on his voice to work, he merely threaded his fingers through Sam’s hair and turned his face into the mattress on a low moan when Sam picked up the pace.

Hard, long thrusts and Dean’s cock trapped in between their bellies, and, out of the blue, Dean came. Liquid heat jolted down his spine and he gasped at the suddenness of it. His muscles went tense, then relaxed, and Sam was fucking him through it.

It was perfect, perfect, and he would be so sore later. He let Sam gather him up with one arm, lifting Dean’s ass onto his thighs and he shortened his strokes along Dean’s prostate into quick, hard jabs.  
Dean whimpered.

He came again a second time, dry and with a hoarse yell, at the same time as Sam reached his own orgasm. Dean was able to feel it slick and messy inside of him but he didn’t care, didn’t care.

Their erratic breathing mingled in the space between their mouths and Sam briefly dropped his forehead to Dean’s sternum before pulling back, pulling out, and making Dean whine. He pressed a fleeting kiss against Dean’s temple and got up to go to the bathroom.

Dean kept his eyes shut all the way through Sam’s coming back and cleaning him gently with a washcloth. He could feel the bone-deep exhaustion spreading through him and it wasn’t only physical.  
Sam had to be just as tired and Dean drew him in, urging him down next to him.

They had never been big on cuddling. Dean still enjoyed Sam’s hand stroking along his arm and Sam’s lips against his shoulder. He turned his head to kiss his brother and it was the first soft kiss of the night, practically chaste.  
Dean almost couldn’t handle it. He turned his face back to the ceiling.

He didn’t mind the silence between them. It was comfortable and he was tired and his mouth turned up at the corners for no reason at all.

Sam’s fingers had found the raised mark on his forearm, tracing it with the pad of his thumb. “You feeling okay? This giving you trouble?”

The constant raging inside of his head since Abbadon had been reduced to nothing more than a steady hum right underneath his skin. It wasn’t the usual itch. It was almost soothing.

“No,” he said, still smiling, “I’m good.”


End file.
